


A nice girl like you

by elzed



Category: Doctor Who, True Blood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/pseuds/elzed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy Pond needs to blow off some steam. So she visits Fangtasia...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A nice girl like you

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: fire, ice, seduction. Posted on DW for the Porn Battle XII under the pseud **bluestocking**. Written at top speed to get in by the deadline (or near enough) and therefore unbetaed...

“So,” Eric whispers conversationally into the delicate ear of the flame-haired girl, who smells so tantalizingly fresh and sweet all at once, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Gratifyingly, she jumps about four inches into the air in shock.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she shouts at him, her eyes furious. The anger makes her smell even more luscious, and it’s all he can do to stop his fangs popping out unbidden.

“My apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Eric Northman, the landlord of this inconsequential establishment. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Miss…?”

The redhead, under whose creamy skin Eric can feel the blood pulsing in a deliciously accelerated rhythm, is making every effort to appear unconcerned as she answers him.

“Amy. My name is Amy Pond,” she says, and Eric is thrilled to hear a distinct Scottish burr in her voice, the like of which he hasn’t heard for quite some time.

“Amy Pond – from Scotland, is it? I’m afraid there’s a general dearth of Scots in Shreveport, usually, but I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see this remedied by your presence.”

He takes her hand and brings it up to his lips, barely brushing them against her pale skin, but it’s enough to make his whole body thrum. He hasn’t had that strong a reaction to a human since Sookie Stackhouse – and, well, Sookie’s humanity is a matter of debate at the best of times. This one, though, there’s a scent about her that he’s never encountered before. Something… ancient, and yet alive, unlike the dusty faded smell of his fellow vampires.

Amy is a little disconcerted, but to her credit she covers it well, and she lets her hand linger in Eric’s perhaps a touch longer than she should before pulling away. There’s something else about her that Eric can’t quite put his finger on. He wonders whether she even realizes.

“If you’ll allow me to be so bold, Amy, I can’t help but notice that there’s… an air of loss about you. Have you perhaps mislaid a prized possession recently?”

She frowns, and her expression becomes more guarded. There’s definitely something missing here, or someone, but Amy doesn’t seem to realize it. It’s as if she’d been glamoured, Eric reflects, because that puzzled face is just like the one he’s seen on countless humans after encounters that vampires would rather they forget. Intriguing.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve mislaid the Doctor exactly,” she says finally. “More like got rid of him on purpose. For now. Because he was being so damn… annoying. And he wouldn’t let me visit this place. But he’s hardly what I’d call a possession.”

Ah, the overprotective paramour, the caring friend, or even the jealous colleague – Eric’s seen them all. They never like it when adventurous young women want to visit Fangtasia, and they are absolutely right to distrust them. Eric loves fulfilling every stereotype in their fevered male imaginations. Well, almost every stereotype, since these days, rape and murder are frowned upon, and he has no wish to see the wrath of Nan Flanagan descend upon his abode.

“Well I certainly hope you have no cause for regretting the decision to come to Fangtasia,” Eric purrs, placing his hand strategically on Amy’s lower back, which elicits a small shiver on her part. Oh, she’s still nervous, and a little scared, but there’s reckless courage in her too, and enough curiosity to kill several cats.

He’s still not convinced that this Doctor she mentions has anything to do with her aura of loss, but between that, her strange enticing smell, her glorious red mane and the sheer sexiness of her milkmaid complexion, Eric is smitten. He’d glamour her but it’s much more fun to do it the hard way, and if he’s any judge of character – and pheromones – she’s already finding him attractive, so half his work is done.

“Please allow me to refresh your drink,” he says, pointing at her half-empty glass while steering her to the back of the room where he usually holds court, and when she nods he snaps his fingers and a waiter materializes by him.

“Grey Goose and tonic, lime, on the rocks,” he says, enjoying her look of surprise.

He draws out an armchair for her, close to his, and leans down over her as she takes her seat, his voice low.

“I have a very developed sense of smell.”

She blushes to the roots of her hair, obviously embarrassed, and Eric guesses why when he detects the first hints of arousal in her sweat, on her skin, and hardens instantly in response. This girl is decidedly _full_ of promise.

“So,” she says, flustered, “you really are a vampire, then?”

“What else would you expect here at Fangtasia?”

“I don’t know. I mean, the Doctor did say that in this reality… I mean, in this part of the world…”

“Do you mean to say there are no vampires in Scotland?” Eric asks, but the word reality has piqued his interest. “Or do you actually come from somewhere else?”

“It’s complicated,” she says. “As in, more complicated than I can explain – but I come from somewhere very much like here, and yet different. I’m not sure I can describe it any better.”

“You’re a strange woman, Amy Pond, strange and not altogether forthcoming with the truth, but never mind. People come to Fangtasia with their secrets and lies – we’re not here to pass judgment.”

He’s overdoing it, apparently, because she rolls her eyes at him.

“Oh come on, spare me the speeches. But thank you for this,” she says as the waiter reappears with her drink, and she swaps her near empty glass for the full one and takes several long sips.

Eric’s eyes are on her throat, watching it bob as she swallows, and again he has to struggle to keep his fangs in check. He’s given up on his cock by now, and he’s aware that his arousal is very visible in his leather pants. In fact he’s rather hoping that Amy might notice that state of affairs, because he suspects that it will work very much in his favor.

A few seconds later, he’s vindicated, as Amy stretches across to put her glass on the side table, and her eyes alight on his crotch and immediately widen. Eric Northman has no call to be modest about his attributes, but it’s always satisfying (on a base, residual human level) to see the effect they have on others. This time, the spike in arousal is noticeable, as Amy’s scent turns musky and sensual and all but irresistible.

“I think it might be nice to continue this somewhere more private,” he says as she grabs her glass and downs half of it in one gulp in an attempt to regain her countenance.

Amy shakes her head, but he’s not convinced.

“Why don’t you come with me to the back,” Eric murmurs, laying his hand on her wrist. His fingers are on her pulse, the veins throbbing in concert with the beating of her heart, and he feels drunk with anticipation.

“This isn’t me at all,” she protests, but every pore in her body is saying otherwise, and she hasn’t shaken his hand off.

“Don’t try lying to a vampire. It doesn’t work.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she snaps, her Scottish accent stronger as she gets angrier. “I don’t mean that I don’t want to. I just mean – I don’t _do_ this usually. And certainly not when I’m sober.”

“ _Are_ you sober?” he asks, looking pointedly at her drink, and she frowns.

“It’s only a couple of drinks.”

“Just enough to loosen inhibitions, then,” he says. “Isn’t that why you humans like a drink so much? So you can give yourselves license to do the things you really want to, but without the guilt?”

The look on Amy’s face is halfway between irritation and indecision, and then she laughs, and the tension flows out. She’s made her choice.

“You’re right. Who am I kidding? I came here because I needed a break after all the madness, after all the Daleks and the Atraxi and the bloody Weeping Angels.”

Her voice takes on a softer, more seductive tone.

“And I think that’s exactly why the Doctor was pissed off. Because he knew that I wasn’t just interested in _seeing_ vampires. I mean, I understand you have a certain _reputation_ , in this world.”

This time, Eric deliberately ignores the cryptic references, because to be honest he doesn’t care anymore, even if this Amy Pond is clearly either deranged or even weirder than the average customer of Fangtasia (which is saying quite a lot). Instead he focuses on her unequivocal assent and whisks her away to his back office, using a little of his extra speed and strength just to give her a taste of what’s to come.

“Jesus Christ!” she cries out when he’s spirited them into the office and locked the door, all within a heartbeat. “Oh, sorry… I guess – you don’t like this.”

Eric laughs.

“Feel free to swear, call on God and all the saints, or whatever you wish. I’m afraid that a lot of what you’ve heard about vampires is just old wives tales…

“So… you’re not bothered by crosses and holy water? Or garlic?”

“No.”

“How about wooden stakes to the heart?”

He grimaces, and she laughs back at him.

“Not _all_ old wives’ tales, I see?”

“Fascinating though this is,” Eric says, moving closer to Amy and stroking her arm with one hand, “I suggest we hold the ethnological discussion for later.”

And to make his point, he takes another step forward and thrusts lazily against her hips, which makes her gasp.

“I will warn you,” he adds, very low, “that sex with a vampire is quite an intense experience.”

Amy is already breathless and flushed, and if her blown pupils are anything to go by, more than ready to experience some hot and heavy vampire action.

“Just as long as you don’t bite me.”

Eric nods. He was hoping she’d be more adventurous, but he’s feeling hornier than he is hungry, and the prospect of sex is enough for now.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he says, letting his fangs slide out, and the look on her face is a mixture of desire and revulsion.

“Whoa mister! I said no biting,” she says, tensing, and she sighs in relief when he sheathes them.

“Fine,” he says, and then he’s done talking and swoops down on her mouth for a bruising kiss.

He had her pegged for a fiery one, and she doesn’t disappoint as she returns her kiss with as much teeth and tongue as he put into it, and a willingness to nip and suck at his mouth which is _very_ promising. The kissing degenerates quickly into groping, and Eric puts his supernatural speed to use again, loosening her clothes as he gropes her, until Amy finds herself standing near-naked in a puddle of unbuttoned shirt and unzipped skirt.

“That’s…. pretty smooth. How did you?”

“Skill.”

And just for the hell of it, he undoes her bra without her noticing. She’s just wearing a tiny pair of knickers (red silk) and high heeled pumps (black snakeskin) and the contrast with her perfect creamy skin, dusted with freckles on the shoulders and down her spine, is glorious. He has no doubt that when the underwear goes south, Miss Pond will reveal herself as a true redhead.

She looks at him through her lashes, hands half-covering her breasts, her fingers just teasing the proud pink nipples, and Eric feels his cock grow impossibly harder.

“You next,” she whispers, so he obliges and pulls off his T-shirt before unzipping his leather jeans and freeing his heavy cock. The glimmer in her eyes is pleasing enough, but no match for the feel of her hand when she comes closer and wraps it around him, sliding his foreskin over the swollen head, and Eric groans.

After that, it goes a little faster, because he’s finding all this restraint hard to maintain – especially with a woman who’s so clearly ready to be fucked as Amy Pond is. So he picks her up and holds her high against the wall before pulling her knickers off with his teeth (no fangs) and mouthing at her erect clit. She lets out a squeal of surprise and laughter, and he stops.

“I can’t believe you can hold me up like this,” she says, panting. “Don’t stop!”

So he starts again, and it takes less than five minutes for her to come all over his face, at which point he carries her over to the couch and drops her there, relishing the sight of her in the immediate aftermath of orgasm.

 

“Wow,” she says. “You weren’t kidding when you said vampire sex was intense.”

Eric flashes a wide predator’s smile at her.

“Sweetheart, we’ve barely started.”

And he climbs over her, pulls her right leg up over his shoulder and slides right into her glistening wet cunt, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh., God, Eric, you’re… Oh God. Oh _God._ Shouldn’t we…? Oh, my fucking _God_!” she cries out with every thrust.

“Vampire sex is always safe sex,” he says, laughing, and when he figures she’s adjusted to his size, he speeds up to something approximating his usual thrusting rhythm, and Amy’s moans go crescendo until she’s shaking in a long continuous orgasm, one peak leading to another, and he can feel every delicious spasm along his cock. By the time he comes, she’s nearly passed out with pleasure.

Later, as the night goes on, they do it again, and again, until Amy begs mercy.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” she says, her voice broken from all the screaming, her body wracked with shivers and shudders and aftershocks. She looks, Eric has to admit it, like she’s been thoroughly and royally fucked.

“I can be lenient,” Eric concedes. He is beginning to feel a little sore himself, not that it lasts.

“You know,” Amy says, stretching her sore limbs on the couch, which also looks the worse for wear – time to get Pam to order a new one – and giving him a sly look, “this is exactly what a nice girl like me was hoping to do in a place like this. Only better.”

Eric Northman allows himself to feel a little smug.


End file.
